


Deleted Scenes

by HumsHappily



Series: Follow the Script [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Burlesquelock, Drinking, Heavy Petting, M/M, Referenced Johnlock, Smoking, Some stuff happens in chapter two, Song fic, leather and fishnets oh my, mystrade, the tags will be updated.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 07:01:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3437942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumsHappily/pseuds/HumsHappily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Fog begins to roll across the stage, coating the floor. The band in the corner plays a few low growling notes as the house lights dim again, leaving the stage lit with soft shadowy light. Steps are heard, and Greg comes forward to pick up the mic set in a stand at the side. He grins at the audience. His teeth are white in the shadows, clenched around a cigarette, tip glowing cherry red.  An arm covered in fishnets, attached to a hand in a black cut off glove reaches up, plucking the cigarette from his mouth.......</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deleted Scenes

**Author's Note:**

> These are the "deleted scenes" of an ongoing series now entitled "Follow the Script", previously "Burlesque". Each part is numbered with the scene number it belongs to, however the scenes may not necessarily follow the order in which events ought happen in real life. I suggest you read the series in order, otherwise, references may be made that spoil later events.  
> However, if you find the formatting tedious, be aware that it will persist through to the end.

**[Deleted Scene 1: London Calling]**

  
  
  
  


Characters:

John Watson: ex-army doctor, flatmate of Sherlock Holmes, anger issues, trust issues, and a penchant for justice.

Sherlock Holmes: Consulting detective, only one in the world. Self made, and will do anything to get his man.

Greg Lestrade: detective inspector, lead detective at NSY Homicide division

 

Introducing:

Mycroft Holmes: The very embodiment of the British Government, freckled and pale, with legs that go for miles. Brother of Sherlock Holmes, currently in a rocky relationship with DI Gregory Lestrade.

  
  
  


[Scene: Again, the audience finds themselves at the dance club Burlesque.  Sherlock and John are seated at a front row table. A scowling man -Mycroft Holmes- is seated stiffly on the chair between them, scowling.]

 

Mycroft: When I was summoned here, I expected trouble. Not this-

 

[He gestures at the stage where a band is setting up, pressed into the far back corner. The audience around them is louder, larger than normal and Mycroft sticks out like a sore thumb in his three piece suit. He is obviously uncomfortable and Sherlock is rather gleeful about it. John sighs, shaking his head at Sherlock.]

 

John: Mycroft, if you’d just wait for a bit everything will make sense, alright?

 

[Sherlock snorts, a wicked grin on his face. Mycroft glares at him, and goes to respond, but the house lights dim once before coming on full strength once more.]

 

John: Oh thank God, it’s starting.

 

[Fog begins to roll across the stage, coating the floor. The band in the corner plays a few low growling notes as the house lights dim again, leaving the stage lit with soft shadowy light. Steps are heard, and Greg comes forward to pick up the mic set in a stand at the side. He grins at the audience. His teeth are white in the shadows, clenched around a cigarette, tip glowing cherry red.  An arm covered in fishnets, attached to a hand in a black cut off glove reaches up, plucking the cigarette from his mouth. He grinds it into side of the leather vest he wears, laced in the front to show his shining chest, hair glimmering with oil. John glances quickly at Mycroft, who is staring at the stage, an unholy mix of rage and lust in his eyes. Greg flicks the cigarette, stained red from his lipstick, away as he blows a cloud of smoke into the foggy stage air. He smiles, one dark smudged eyelid drooping into a wink as he turns around, facing the band and gives a short nod.]

 

[Mycroft goes to stand, and John and Sherlock push him back down into his seat.]

 

Sherlock:(quiet and soft) Stay brother mine. Watch. See what you would throw away over your foolish pride.

 

[Mycroft turns to Sherlock, their eyes meeting in understanding as a drum beat starts on stage.]

 

[Greg moves forward, taking center stage. Black motorcycle boots, unlaced, tongues flapping thud on the stage as he stomps his feet, and begins to sing]

  
  


Greg:(singing)

London calling to the faraway towns

Now war is declared, and battle come down

London calling to the underworld

Come out of the cupboard, you boys and girls

London calling, now don't look to us

Phoney Beatlemania has bitten the dust

London calling, see we ain't got no swing

'Cept for the ring of that truncheon thing

 

[Greg drops the mic as the music continues to play and the drummer picks up the song as Greg ducks down, pulling a dark green bottle, seemingly from nowhere. ]

 

The ice age is coming, the sun's zooming in

Meltdown expected, the wheat is growing thin

Engines stop running, but I have no fear

'Cause London is drowning, and I live by the river

 

London calling to the imitation zone

Forget it, brother, you can go it alone

London calling to the zombies of death

Quit holding out, and draw another breath

London calling, and I don't wanna shout

But while we were talking, I saw you nodding out

London calling, see we ain't got no high

Except for that one with the yellowy eyes

 

[The men watch as Greg beckons the bass player forward, pulling him in for a filthy kiss with a growl. The other man smiles, fingers trailing down to flick the silver ring hanging from Greg’s nipple.]

The ice age is coming, the sun's zooming in

Engines stop running, the wheat is growing thin

 

[Greg pushes the bassist back and faces the audience again, champagne bottle still in his hand.]

 

A nuclear error, but I have no fear

'Cause London is drowning, and I live by the river

 

[Greg grins as the musicians keep going, waggling his eyebrows and dropping to his knees. He pops the cork on the champagne bottle, raising it, letting the foam bubble up and pour over his chest and face. He brings the bottle to his mouth, adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he chugs the liquid down, audience cheering him on.]

 

Now get this

London calling, yes, I was there, too

An' you know what they said? Well, some of it was true!

 

[Greg bends his knees, setting the empty bottle down on the stage. He brings an arm up, wiping at his mouth, smearing red lipstick across his face.]

 

London calling at the top of the dial

 

[Greg stares into the audience, eyes hooded, makeup running down his face as he meets Mycroft’s eyes for the first time that night. He licks his lips and stands, ignoring the man. ]

 

After all this, won't you give me a smile?

London calling

 

[Greg walks off stage as the music fades, leaving the spotlight, empty except for the champagne bottle, a drop of peachy liquid sliding down the dark glass.]

 

I never felt so much alike [fading] alike alike alike

**[End Scene]**

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, find me [here](http://hums-happily.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.  
> Any notification of errors are accepted with gratefulness that knows no bounds.  
> Kudos, comments, and your happy (pained) flailing are accepted with glee. I hope you enjoyed!  
> Thanks to [beautifullyheeled](http://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullyheeled/pseuds/beautifullyheeled) for everything.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for Follow the Script By: HumsHappily](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3445595) by [beautifullyheeled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullyheeled/pseuds/beautifullyheeled)




End file.
